Stranger in a Strange Land
by Fatality
Summary: The relationship that Vash the Stampede has with Legato Bluesummers is far more tumultuous and intimate than he would ever care to admit.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I don't own TRIGUN. No, seriously. Also, this is an intro chapter. The rest will be more lengthy and less vague.

Chapter One

"_Enemy of mine  
I'll fuck you like the devil  
Violent inside  
Beautiful and evil…"  
_

He was playing ball with a small group of children, urchins whose parents had thoughtlessly left them unattended to enjoy a few moments' peace and a bit of sunshine, when he met the man in the white coat for the first time. He was buying a few of the waifs ice cream and enjoying a treat himself – minding his own business, as he often strived to do – when suddenly a black cloud seemed to permeate his thoughts; he then perceived himself to be in danger, something he was becoming all too used to, but quite before he had prepared himself he was blindsided by a sensation of terror so acute that it nearly buckled his knees. For a moment the horror showed through the nearly-perfected façade of joy that so often constituted his facial expression, just long enough for the insurance girls to take notice, and then Vash the Stampede heard the man's voice.

Vash chose not to antagonize the man in the white coat when he made the very obvious observation that he had finally found him. Yes, he had allowed himself to be found, if only because his mounting notoriety had made hiding altogether impossible. He then introduced himself as Legato Bluesummers, a name that Vash was unfamiliar with but one he assumed, with a sinking feeling, he would become intimately familiar with before much longer. Vash spared a moment for the insurance girls to toss them the ball and reassure them in a not-so-believable voice that all was well, then he slid his sunglasses into place on the bridge of his nose for no better reason than to hide the blatant fear in his eyes.

For this man was something to fear – of that, he was inescapably certain.

Their conversation was telepathic and mercifully brief - Legato informed Vash that he had sought him out to impart the news that his life was going to end before the day was over. These were words Vash had heard many times – daily in the last few weeks, he admitted begrudgingly – but never before had they been spoken in such a tone of sinister self-assurance. Legato spoke in a voice of black velvet, each word a dark promise of wicked things to come yet so intriguing that it took every ounce of Vash's nigh-limitless willpower not to turn and gaze at the man in awe. He laughed at Vash's feeble attempts at intimidation and even made a show of playing with one of the small children currently skirting around the pavilion just to get a rise out of him, and laughed all the harder at Vash's frantic reactions to his every movement.

While Vash's thoughts were still reeling with revulsion and uncertainty Legato took his leave, murmuring something about leaving a gift for Vash on the simple park bench on which he had been sitting. The moment that the man in the white coat was out of sight the rest of the world faded back into sharper focus with the inconsistency of a badly tuned radio, and as Vash's eyes fell upon the crinkled brown paper bag in which Legato had deposited the so-called 'gift' the woman whose husband owned and operated the shoe store down the lane ran out of that establishment screaming.

In the arms of the concerned townsfolk she confessed that her husband wouldn't speak to her, and Vash found that he knew what was inside the bag without even looking. The macabre revelation, coupled with the memory of Legato's detestable yet still somehow thrilling voice, sent a shiver that had nothing at all to do with the climate coursing violently down Vash's spine.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"_I'm a ghost, you're an angel  
One and the same  
Just remains of an age…"  
_

Of course he was imprisoned for the death of the shoemaker, not that he was surprised. He should have known that the man in the white coat would see to it that the infamous Humanoid Typhoon would play the scapegoat for his morbid little game.

Vash had two visitors during his short stint in the town's run-down jail, the insurance girls Meryl Stryfe and Millie Thompson, but he was as purposefully vague with them as he could manage to be in his current state. Though Legato Bluesummers was nowhere in sight Vash could somehow _feel_ the full weight of those eerie golden eyes following his every movement; it was distracting, so much so that Vash could scarcely offer up a better answer than an empty smile for his two visitors, and made him wish he could concentrate on something, _anything_ else. The moment the intruding, crushing influence became nearly overwhelming Vash reached out and embraced it, for it seemed the only way he would find a moment's peace would be to indulge Legato for a little while longer.

_What do you want?_ Vash snapped in a most inhospitable voice, and though he was in no way fond of Legato Bluesummers he instantly regretted his frigid tone. So much for goodwill towards mankind, and all that.

That was the first time he ever heard Legato laugh, a low chuckle saturated with malice and devoid of any real mirth; it was just like listening to his voice in that it incited the same rivaling sensations of revulsion and curiosity, inconsolable rage and undeniable intrigue. _Now, now… What could I have possibly done to merit such unprovoked hostility?_

_Are you surprised? I'm serving time because of a crime that _you_ committed. You murdered an innocent man in cold blood for no better reason than to amuse yourself! You widowed a good woman! You play with these people like they're your toys when you know damn well that they've living, breathing creatures with more capacity to feel than you'll ever have!_

_My, my,_ mused the silky smooth voice, as chilling and reassuring as a spider coaxing an unwitting fly into her web. _It seems I have gotten under your skin, Vash the Stampede – precisely as my master commanded. It would appear that my first real mission for him has been a resounding success._

The mention of a power higher than Legato Bluesummers confirmed what Vash had suspected from the beginning – that Knives was behind the intricate plot to torture him and probably had been from the very start. Vash shifted in his chains, vaguely aware of the fact that his vacant gaze was still fixed on the concerned faces of the insurance girls though his thoughts couldn't have been further away. _So that's what this is about? You're just another one of his puppets? A mindless slave like everyone else who interacts with him?_

_That's exactly correct. I am merely the extension of his will – my existence means nothing. _

This set Vash back on his heels a bit; of all the answers he had been expecting, he hadn't been at all prepared for Legato's too-calm acceptance of his piteous lot in life. Vash couldn't quite sublimate the pang of sympathy that assailed him at the thought of yet another life form all but helpless and subject to his brother's every whim, but he quickly reminded himself that Legato seemed to be volunteering for such a fate and so he quashed the sensation almost at once – after all, it was likely that Legato wouldn't respond well at all to his sympathies. _Why listen to him? You're a living creature with the power to make your own decisions – and you're choosing to let him call the shots for you? Can't you see this isn't the way?_

_Spare me your commiserations, for they are misplaced. There is no greater honor than serving my master. His will is closer to divinity than any other these miserable humans have fashioned for themselves over the years, and his power is absolute._

_If he's so magnificent, why are you wasting your time sifting through my thoughts?_ asked Vash a little irritably, and his tone of voice earned him another of Legato's soft, icy chuckles.

_Because, dear Vash, you fascinate me,_ he admitted with a most sinister purr, and even as Vash opened his mind to respond he sensed the swiftly-approaching danger just beyond his cell and forced the intruding influence completely out of his mind, just in time to shout a warning to Meryl and Millie before the world exploded around them.

* * *

The moment he stumbled out of the rubble and took a look around, Vash came to understand that his new adversaries were not to be trifled with. The behemoth who had attacked him, the man who called himself Monev the Gale, had murdered dozens of innocent civilians in his efforts to put an end to Vash. Tears streamed unbidden from Vash's eyes as he gazed around at the senseless slaughter, but it wasn't long before grief transformed itself into white-hot, all-consuming rage.

The man who turned back to do battle with Monev the Gale was not the man with the easygoing smile and the gentle, generous heart – it was the embodiment of the Humanoid Typhoon, the Sixty-Billion-Double-Dollar Man whose notoriety reached far and wide. The man who lifted his gun, whose eyes gleamed with unforgiving fury behind the unusual golden sunglasses he wore, was nothing less than a force of untamed destruction, a monster, a demon.

The Diablo, a terrified Monev called him.

The barrel of his arm attachment dug deeply into Monev's right eye with enough force to darken the skin around his eye socket, a sure sign that it would bruise. Perhaps he would lose sight in that eye. Vash found that he didn't care – he was taking a small measure of solace in the sinuous way his finger caressed the trigger, was even deriving pleasure from the undiluted terror in the criminal's face and the shameless cries that fell upon deaf ears.

Mercy. He was begging for mercy. What gave him the right to ask for something that he clearly didn't have the emotional capacity to give to others?

He marveled silently at just how easy it would be to end the man's life and found that he was almost lusting for that moment. His blood boiled with near-ecstasy as he envisioned the way Monev's blood might stain the shining metal of his gun, imagined the blissful silence that might follow when he stopped his victim's cries with force –

By the time Vash realized that it was an outside influence driving him to perform such heinous actions he had bowled Monev the Gale over so that he was bent double, and the barrel of his smoking arm was pressing with such force that the unmolested eye was popping out of its socket. He leapt back as though shocked at his own actions and retracted his gun, and though he cast his gaze around suspiciously he wasn't at all surprised to find that the man he was searching for was nowhere to be found.

He knew that Legato would hear his thoughts, for he could sense that the malevolent presence lingered still within his mind. _You're going to have to do better than that._

_I see that you are made of something stronger than I originally gave you credit for,_ Legato admitted, though he didn't sound disappointed at all – quite the contrary he seemed pleased by the way the day's events had transpired. _It doesn't matter. My master would only have been displeased had you proved so easy to exterminate._

Vash turned his back on Monev the Gale and walked slowly away, leaving the few survivors gaping at his back but at a loss for anything to say. _I'm not going to let you get away with this, Legato. I'm going to stop you, whatever it takes._

Legato's response was expected, but still made Vash shudder as it assailed him with multiple insinuations. _Be careful what you wish for, my dear Vash._


End file.
